Quelle Heure Est il?
by P.L.S
Summary: SG1 & Dr. Who XOver. A nine year old runaway picks a Time Lord's pocket and ends up finding what he had been missing since the deaths of his parents someone who loves and understands him.
1. Je Vais Chez Moi

Title: Je Vais à la Maison. (Pt. 1 of the _Quelle Heure Est-il?_ drabble set.)

Fandoms: Stargate SG-1/ Doctor Who 2005

Characters/Pairing: Daniel Jackson

Warnings: Crossover-AU, future mentions of Child Abuse

Word Count: 461

Rating: G or K. (ratings are subject to change especially when Daniel gets older and meets Capt. Harkness.)

Summary: A nine year old runs away.

Author's Notes: Fix-It-ish. Any questions can be directed to my livejournal (go to my profile & click on homepage) or via review.

ooOooOoo

Everyone in the room was asleep. He made sure of it.

He hated America. It was supposed to be some magic land with hot dogs and rain and green plants everywhere. It wasn't. It was cold and gray and the city felt dead even though it was younger than Cairo. Cairo was alive, he remembered the feelings of walking in the bazaar with his mom, dad, or ayah. He longed for the music, the warmth, the heartbeat of the ancient capital that had comforted him when he realized he was lost. Here, this New York, it was dead. No music, rather it was filled with mechanical noise and chilling news reports. No warmth, instead it was cold like a corpse, no sun, no rain, just gray and cold and biting winds that hated him. No life in this world.

It was the city that killed his mom and dad.

So he was going home, running away from the people who wanted him to forget Cairo and how to talk in anything but English. He wanted to go home, so he eased the window open, and crawled out unto the fire escape. He had nothing in his hands, he wanted nothing of theirs. They had taken his books, his artifacts, his comforts because they thought he was like the American children with no respect for the past and no idea of how valuable his treasures were.

He was going home. He kept that in mind as he wiggled down a drain pipe rather than going down the noisy clanking ladder of the fire escape. Silently he vanished into the shadows, vowing that he'd die before setting foot in that hell again.

The adults all ignored him or tried to make him talk about what he saw when the chains snapped. The kids, the bigger kids called him names, beat him up, took the few things he had kept and destroyed his last links to his parents. The littler kids refused to talk to him, wouldn't play games around him, called him names right next to the bigger kids, took all the good things and left him with what they wouldn't touch.

He didn't care if he had to live like a thief, he would not be taken back to the shelter. He knew how to survive on the streets of a city. He had made friends with enough of the street kids in Cairo to know how to pickpockets, to observe shops, and to steal and not get caught. He'd live on the streets until he found a way to get home, then he'd go find his ayah or his friends. If he couldn't have his mom and dad, they were the people that he knew loved him and wanted him around.


	2. Il a Pris la Clé

Title: Il a Pris la Clé. (Pt. 2 of the _Quelle Heure Est-il?_ drabble set.)

Fandoms: Stargate SG-1/ Doctor Who 2005

Characters/Pairing: Daniel Jackson, Ninth Doctor

Warnings: Crossover-AU

Word Count:

Rating: G or K.

Summary: Some business cards & a funny looking bit of metal.

Author's Notes: Fix-It-ish.

ooOooOoo

He let the tears well up, streak down his dirty face, making tracks that only a blind man would miss. He made himself the perfect picture of innocent misery, knees to his chest, shoulders shaking with faked sobs, one shoe tied, the other not.

It was twilight, and his clothes were mismatched, slightly oversized, and American.

It was usually the old ladies who came up to him, maybe a motherly type coming home from the market or from work, but today was a little different. It was a tall man in black, his hair was cropped close like a soldier, and his voice was tinged with Northern British accent he'd missed hearing. This was a guy he'd probably regret taking from, but he needed to eat.

"Where's your mum?"

"Dead." Daniel sniffed and rubbed at his eyes with his sleaves.

"Your da?"

"Dead."

"So where do you live?" Daniel shrugged.

"'M lost, mister." The man sighed.

"I'm the Doctor. Come on, boy. I'll drop you off at a police station. They'll get you home."

"Really?" Daniel took the man's out stretched hand. A car backfired and he pretended to be scared. As he squeezed the Doctor, he let his hands quickly wander and find what he could. As they left the park he let the crush of people bump him and pull him away from the Doctor and he used the people to hide him, so he could run before his con was found out.

When he got to a place where he felt safe enough, he pulled out his catch. A bunch of cards, they looked like business cards, and a bit of metal that had a strange design and felt almost alive, like his books or treasures used to.

He wondered if the Doctor knew about the life in the metal.


	3. Il Recherche la Clé

Title: Il Recherche la Clé. (Pt. 3 of the _Quelle Heure Est-il? _drabble set.)

Fandoms: Stargate SG-1/ Doctor Who 2005

Characters/Pairing: Daniel Jackson, Ninth Doctor

Warnings: Crossover-AU

Word Count: 244

Rating: G or K.

Summary: His key is gone & TARDIS will not open for him.

Author's Notes: Fix-It-ish.

ooOooOoo

He cursed his luck, his caring heart, the kid who played him for a fool, the TARDIS's little moods, his damned key, and the universe in general.

It wasn't that long ago he was walking through one of those park places in between apartment complexes when he saw the most pathetic looking five year old. The kid looked like he was mostly okay, just lost and mussed from playing hard. So, like any respectable person he stopped and figured that he should get the kids to a safer place. New York at this time was not a haven for innocents and the kid would have been easy pickings for any depraved idiot.

Of course, he lost the kid in a crowd and was planning on looking via TARDIS's computers, but as he searched his pockets, his key was gone. Normally, it wasn't a big deal, TARDIS knew him and would normally scan him and give him the spare. Today, however, she gave him a tracker set to the unique alloy that all TARDIS keys were made of.

So he was sent off through the back alleys of Manhattan, looking for the twerp who took his key and his psychic papers. He hated tracking down human kids, they were small and quick and smarter than they had any right to be and completely tireless and annoying and everything he hated.

Again he cursed his luck, the kid, himself, his TARDIS, and the universe in general.


	4. Le Sommeil de Voleur

Title: Le Sommeil de Voleur. (Pt. 4 of the _Quelle Heure Est-il? _drabble set.)

Fandoms: Stargate SG-1/ Doctor Who 2005

Characters/Pairing: Daniel Jackson, Ninth Doctor

Warnings: Crossover-AU

Word Count: 230

Rating: G or K.

Summary: He finds the thief sleeping.

ooOooOoo

It was well into the wee hours of the day before he found the pickpocket.

He thought he was ready to see whatever it was he'd see, but he wasn't. The boy looked so small and hurt as he writhed and talked to those in his dreams. He listened, the words shifted between Berber and Arabic with French and ancient curses thrown in for variety. The boy had used American English before, phrases and everything that a child of the Big Apple would say. This child was speaking like a North African, maybe Egyptian.

Was this child that far away from home? Or was he a child born overseas and when his parents' visas ran out & they returned to their homeland, the boy wasn't able to make the adjustment?

"No! Maman! Aba! Don't die!"

The Doctor felt something in him pull at him, he couldn't just grab his key and leave the child here. The TARDIS probably wouldn't let him. So he started to play with the settings on his Sonic Screwdriver to knock the kid's brain back to producing Theta waves so he could get him into the TARDIS before he had to answer questions that he felt would be better answered and more accepted in the space-time ship.

Besides, he'd do anything to keep his ship happy. As his instructors always chanted; a happy ship, a happy trip.


	5. Pour Être un Slave

Title: Pour Être un Slave. (Pt. 5 of the _Quelle Heure Est-il_ drabble set.)

Fandoms: Stargate SG-1/ Doctor Who 2005

Characters/Pairing: Daniel Jackson, Ninth Doctor

Warnings: Crossover-AU

Word Count:

Rating: G or K.

Summary: Daniel wakes.

ooOooOoo 

It was warm, it was soft, it was cozy, it so was not the streets.

Daniel went from sleeping to awake in an instant and started to try to put together where he was and if he was in any danger. The lighting was dull, orange tinged, and the objects in the room ranged from an old bloodletting kit from the 1500's to a hypodermic set that looked to be from the 1940's or later to somethings that looked to be so unusual that they belonged in a modern art museum. He was on a strange sort of examination table or a new kind of hospital bed, he wasn't sure which it was. All together it looked to be a strange sort of infirmery or sick bay.

As his feet hit the cold floor with twin dull smacks, he noted he was stripped down to his y-fronts and at some point he had been scrubbed, treated, and somehow, totally healed of his many bruises, scrapes, and other hurts that he had accumulated in the six months he had been fending for himself.

His first month out of the shelter had been an education in the American politics of New York street life. The gangs, the drug trade, the sex trade, even the Mafia all seemed to be out to use him and then kill him. At first it seemed like a blessing that he found protection in the form of Ray, but it didn't take long for him to figure out that Ray wasn't going to help him for nothing.

The other kids, all older than him had been trained into streetwalkers, and he was at first the housekeep and whipping boy when Ray would get drunk, but Jose and Rosa made it clear that Ray was going to make him a prostitute as well. He was just too young at that point to be any good, at least he was if Ray wanted him to escape any permament physical damage. The twins helped him escape Ray and gave him enough food and knowledge that he could at least avoid making himself a target.

So now his six months of survival studies were telling him that he was in trouble. No one just helped, at least not for him. He recalled the stories of other perverts that could use him, it was the only thing he could think of for why he was healed. Daniel wondered if he could sneek out, but wagered that anyone with this essentric of an infirmery was probably rich and paranoid.

He ducked under the bed and curled up into a fetal position. This wasn't what he dreamt of when he left the shelter.


	6. Nouvelles Pensées

Title: Nouvelles Pensées. (Pt. 6 of the _Quelle Heure Est-il_ drabble set.)

Fandoms: Stargate SG-1/ Doctor Who 2005

Characters/Pairing: Daniel Jackson, Ninth Doctor

Warnings: Crossover-AU

Word Count: 531

Rating: PG or K+.

Summary: The Doctor ponders.

Author's Notes: Am sorry 'bout the delay, I've been reading Danvers' SG15 verse... Gawd, it's not only cracked, it's like... well, I can't find anything to compare it to. It's v. funny though.

ooOooOoo

He read over the data, it wasn't that hard to find the boy's identity, not as hard as it should have been. It was usually hours of trolling through Earth's primitive archives to find the identity of a random child, but with this child all he had to do was let TARDIS have a blood sample to match with, and instantly hundreds of terabytes of information came spilling out.

Daniel Jackson was one of the reasons that the rather backwards humans from Earth took to space travel then time travel like ducks to water (relatively speaking.) His history was intwined with not only humans, but also the Altaara, Ori, Goa'uld/Tok'ra, Asgaard, Nox, Jaffa, Replicators, Enktarens, Oannes, Unas, Aschen, Reetou, Enkaran, Gadmeer, Serrakin, Ascended, and all the others that those races interacted with The pickpocket was supposed to be a fulcrum, the person who shaped and held together intergalactic politics, trade, and knowledge exchange.

Once upon a time a few Time Lords did a study, trying to figure out just how one short lived human could impact so many lives, and they observed three humans in several different realities. The three test subjects? Alexander Harris, Arthur Dent, and Daniel Jackson, all three were considered fulcrums, but only Daniel Jackson actively sought out the opportunities and shaped the universe. The other two just seemed to stumble upon events and end up in the presences of those who had power.

So, what was this person of such great worth doing on the streets of New York, picking pockets, and sleeping in rubbish piles? Why wasn't he being trained to utilize his innate talents? This this reality at the time of his death Daniel Jackson had become at least conversational in over sixty languages, been to four galaxies, become the first ascended being to willingly accept death... The Doctor stopped reading the list of accomplishments and started to look through the records of the boy's time period.

His parents were dead, crushed in a museum before the boy's eyes. He had spent a year in the care of the State of New York, the first six months not talking, the last six months rejected but not given up for adoption by his last living relative, his maternal grandfather. He would have nearly nine years of being shuffled around foster homes and shelters to look forward to... The Doctor looked further down the time stream, and Daniel would also get to be raped, abused, used, and ignored.

"Well, isn't that just a pretty kettle of fish."

So, the question presented itself. TARDIS had already made her opinion known, she liked the boy and was going to keep him. The Doctor looked at all the information again. He wasn't heartless enough to just leave a boy in a place where he'd be emotionally killed, even if time said that was the way it happened. The boy did have potential and seemed adaptable enough to handle living with him. It would be a shame not to nurture such a benevolent genius.

Damn, it looked like the choice was made long ago. He had to take him in, the Gallfreeian records pointed to him as the child's mentor.


	7. Oui

Title: Oui. (Pt. 7 of the _Quelle Heure Est-il?_ drabble set.)

Fandoms: Stargate SG-1/ Doctor Who 2005

Characters/Pairing: Daniel Jackson, Ninth Doctor

Warnings: Crossover-AU

Word Count: 539

Rating: G or K.

Summary: Under the table a few facts are shared.

ooOooOoo

He was surprised to see the bed in the sick bay empty. Although, he did admit that maybe he had spent too long looking over the information on his new charge, he could have sworn that he had knocked the kid out for at least another hour. He was pretty sure the boy hadn't left the room, so where was he? The bed shook a bit & raised up, not a lot but enough for him to understand.

He crouched down and saw the huddled form of the boy that records said he would care for. Or maybe it was the TARDIS, trying to make sure that he did what she wanted, the devious girl.

"Hey, aren't you cold?" The boy jerked back, head up, eyes wide, muscles tensed. The kid was scared and acting rather like an animal. "Eh, now. I'm not gonna hurt you."

"Of course not. You healed me." The boy snapped, "Why?" The Doctor pulled back a bit and sat cross-legged on the floor.

"You've got a choice to make and I wanted you whole to make it. As you were, well, illness was creeping in, infections were getting awful, and to be honest you were about a month away from death."

"What's the choice?" asked the boy.

"This is a TARDIS, or as you'd be more familiar with it, a time machine that's rather alien in origin & I'm the alien who owns it, or rather she owns me." The Doctor gave a wry smile, "Now, here's the choice, you can come with us, see all there is to see, et cetera, et cetera. Or, I can put you back into a foster home or orphanage where you'll at least you're required by law to eat & be kept healthy."

"But not cared about." said the boy, "That's why I left. I don't care about dying, I just wanted out of that place. They already took everything away."

"So, you gonna stay or I'm I gonna put you back where you should have stayed?"

"I," The boy stopped and looked the Doctor over carefully, "You're not human. You can't be."

"What? Why not?" asked the Doctor looking a bit bemused.

"Slight telepathy or some kind of connection with the time machine, I swear I felt two hearts when I was asleep, but I know it was you who carried me, your mannerisms are also just off enough for me to notice. So, why'd you want a human on your time machine?"

"From time to time I find people, not just humans mind you, who help me out, keep me company, help me see things with new eyes. I may be non-human, but I'm a social creature at heart."

"This," he paused as if trying to find the right words, "is normal with your kind?"

"Sort of, maybe, not really, no, not at all. Actually, I'm the last of my people. But when they were around, I was always a rebel & a maverick. Most of my species tended to stay on our little world, watching, not doing anything."

"Oh. But you went out & did things?"

"Yeah."

"And you want to take me on trips to do & see things?"

"Yeah."

"And you want me here?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."


	8. Avoir Confiance en TARDIS

Title: Avoir Confiance en TARDIS. (Pt. 8 of the _Quelle Heure Est-il?_ drabble set.)

Fandoms: Stargate SG-1/ Doctor Who 2005

Characters/Pairing: Daniel Jackson, Ninth Doctor

Warnings: Crossover-AU

Word Count:

Rating: G or K.

Summary: Daniel finds the wardrobe room.

Author's Notes: Any questions that aren't short term plot kinda stuff are answered or will be answered here-

h t t p / p l s t e w a r d . l i v e j o u r n a l . c o m / 3 0 0 6 3 . h t m l

ooOooOoo

He walked just behind the Doctor, through the winding halls, wondering if the maze would ever make sense to him. It was very alien, at least to him. He understood human made labyrinths & mazes, they all followed a kind of logic & followed a pattern that was never changing. Through history the mazes, labyrinths & even the dungeons under castles all were essentially the same, his 'Uncle' Dimetri had taught him that much when they visited him in Athens a few years ago. But this, the TARDIS, wasn't human made & even showed signs of being a sentient being herself, was very much not human & followed none of the rules he had been taught.

"Ah, here we are." The Doctor opened the door with a flourish and a huge grin that stretched his elastic face, "The wardrobe. Pick out whatever you want, next few markets we can stop at I'll let you go shopping, but this should do you for now." With that declaration Daniel found himself pushed into a room that was just coated in cloth, plastic, vinyl, leather, & other textiles that he had yet to learn the names of. The lighting was very different from the orange sick bay, it was white-blue and bright. At one end the wall was just mirrors, not one mirror, but rather it was a hundred different mirrors, some huge, some tiny, some with ostentatious frames, some with no frames. Some of the mirrors were fogged, some rippled, some smooth, some clear, some magnifying, some were just so strange that he didn't yet have the words to understand them.

"I'll be in the control room, just trust TARDIS to lead you there when you're done." With that the door closed and he was left alone, lost, and overwhelmed. At least he was until the TARDIS shuddered and into his lap dropped a set of brown & tan bedouin styled robes, and on the rack closest to him he saw a set of light linen trousers and tunic. With a song in his heart he donned the clothes and thanked the TARDIS for her help.

The door opened on it's own & he found himself trusting the TARDIS to show him where he needed to be. It was very strange to his mind, but he really did trust this thing more than he had trusted anyone other than his parents. Maybe, just maybe, if he cold trust the TARDIS like he trusted his mum, then maybe he could trust the Doctor too.


End file.
